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Four Color Politics

Mainly the Quotes of the Morning, with occasional Other Crap.

Monday, February 14, 2005

Quotes of the Morning


“What else is love but understanding and rejoicing in the fact that another person lives, acts, and experiences otherwise than we do…? “
-Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 - 1900)

“Love is the big booming beat which covers up the noise of hate.”
-Margaret Cho, weblog, 01-15-04

“Love is an exploding cigar we willingly smoke.”
-Lynda Barry

“Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.”
-Jeanne Moreau

“Love all, trust a few. Do wrong to none.”
-William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)


“This world I like

We architects of life”
-Yes, It Can Happen

“Stomping along on this big Phillip Johnson
Is delay just wasting my time
Looking across at Richard Rogers
Scheming dreams to blow both their minds

It’s difficult you see
To give up baby
To leave a job
When you know the money’s from day to day

All the majesty of a city landscape
All the soaring days in our lives
All the concrete dreams in my mind’s eye
All the joy I see thru these architect’s eyes”
-David Bowie, Thru These Architect’s Eyes

“It is official. After God only knows how many years of goofing around and wasting time, I am officially an architect. Huzzah!”
-Jim Kinney


“MR. TID: Gentlemen, we have two basic suggestions for the design of this architectural block, the residential block, and I thought it best that the architects themselves came in to explain the advantages of both designs.
(knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock)
That must be the first architect now. Ah, yes. It's Mr. Wiggin of Ironside and Malone.
MR. WIGGIN: Good morning, gentlemen. Uh, this is a twelve-storey block combining classical neo-Georgian features with all the advantages of modern design. Uhh, the tenants arrive in the entrance hall here, are carried along the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort and past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes, towards the rotating knives. The last twenty feet of the corridor are heavily soundproofed. The blood pours down these chutes and the mangled flesh slurps into these large contai--
CITY GENT #1: Excuse me.
MR. WIGGIN: Hmm?
CITY GENT #1: Uh, did you say 'knives'?
MR. WIGGIN: Uh, rotating knives. Yes.
CITY GENT #2: Are you, uh, proposing to slaughter our tenants?
MR. WIGGIN: Does that not fit in with your plans?
CITY GENT #1: No, it does not. Uh, we-- we wanted a... simple... block of flats.
MR. WIGGIN: Ahh, I see. I hadn't, uh, correctly divined your attitude towards your tenants.
CITY GENT #: Huh huh.
MR. WIGGIN: You see, I mainly design slaughter houses.
CITY GENT #1: Yes. Pity.
MR. WIGGIN: Mind you, this is a real beaut. I mean, none of your blood caked on the walls and flesh flying out of the windows inconveniencing passers-by with this one. I mean, my life has been building up to this.
CITY GENT #2: Yes, and well done, huh, but we did want a block of flats.
MR. WIGGIN: Well, may I ask you to reconsider? I mean, you wouldn't regret it. Think of the tourist trade.
CITY GENT #1: No, no, it's-- it's just that we wanted a block of flats and not an abattoir.
MR. WIGGIN: Yes, well, that's the sort of blinkered, philistine pig ignorance I've come to expect from you non-creative garbage. You sit there on your loathsome, spotty behinds squeezing blackheads, not caring a tinker's cuss for the struggling artist. You excrement! You whining, hypocritical toadies, with your colour TV sets and your Tony Jacklin golf clubs and your bleeding Masonic secret handshakes! You wouldn't let me join, would you, you blackballing bastards! Well, I wouldn't become a freemason now if you went down on your lousy, stinking knees and begged me!
CITY GENT #2: Well, we're sorry you feel like that, but we, um, did... want... a block of flats. Nice, though, the abattoir is.”
-Monty Python’s Flying Circus

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